B.O.S.S. — Rage of the Cursed, Part 4

This’ll be the last RoC for a bit. I’m not sure what’s next on the menu, but when I come back to it’ll be a different time fox Xallion. As always, feel free to let me know what you think of the story so far.

Rage of the Cursed, Part 4 — Doctor

Xallion slogged back to the camp, clenching a fist around two dangling chains. K’rros followed close behind tapping the back of his axe on his shoulder. Ane is going to be angry.

He opened his hand to reveal two Rhialnin standard issue tags. The cold tin bit into his palm, he held one up, noting the etching. “Harold Graves, why did you die today?”

Blood ran down Xallion’s cheek, the open wound stung in the cold air. Had he been human when it happened, he would have lost the eye. Harold’s crossbow bolt would leave a scar, reminding him for the rest of his life.

K’ross reached over and pinched Xallion’s good cheek. The L’kavrikan babbled something in old tongue. The disorientation and encroaching weakness that came with reverting to human, sapped his urge to complain.

“<So you’re a Cursed, huh?>” K’rros said again.

Xallion nodded, reaching up to push away the pinching hand.

K’rros laughed. “<Should have known, Wolven don’t wear shiny armor.>”

Xallion raised the tag to his cheek. The cold tag helped the swelling go down, but did nothing to stop the bleeding.

“<That’ll leave a good one,>” K’rros said, clapping a hand on his chest. “<You’re no adult if you don’t have a scar on your face.>”

“<Shut up,>” Xallion said. Translating made his head hurt.

K’rros shrugged and walked into the camp clearing. Ane hopped down from a tree branch and hurried to Xallion. “You’re hurt?”

“A scratch,” he said.

“This was made by a crossbow bolt. The bruise goes all the way to your cheek. You were shot?”

K’rros set her down and gave her a gentle shove towards Xallion. He caught her handily. Even though it’ll never happen. She’s Cerenish. He moved her away, slow and polite.

“Thanks,” she said glancing back. “I shudder to think what he had in mind for me.”

K’rros widened his grin. “<Lucky guy. A strong slap means good—>”

“Enough,” Xallion said.

Rhyys sniffed at the air, and called forth a spell. It lead him to the bloody tags. He stooped over and ran a thumb over them. “Two casualties? Rhialn soldiers.”

“One of them got me with a crossbow bolt. I lost my temper and ripped out one’s throat. K’rros killed the other one… on my command.”

Rhyys narrowed his sightless eyes. “Four hours of meditation.”

“Y—yes, Rhyys.” Xallion offered a wary glance to Ane.

“As Loki,” Rhyys said.

“But—”

“No buts. If you want to control this part of yourself you need to face it. Remember, I spoke up for you. If not for me, they would have put you down like a wild beast. Show me how right I am for doing so.” He softened his glare. “Besides, I’m only throwing you a bone.”

“Really Rhyys?” Xallion said, muttering.

Rhyys clapped an arm around K’rros’ shoulder. “<You know how to clean a deer? I’m starving.>”

“<Yep, though they’re better raw.>”

“<It may be only you and I eating today. Seeing as Xallion already ate and Ane doesn’t eat meat.>”

K’rros laughed. “<Oh, that’s good. I can eat one on my own. As long as I get the eyeballs, they’re better than grapes.>”

Rhyys chuckled. “<They’re all yours. I’ll be happy with a slice of flank.>”